


For the Salvation I'm Bringing You

by entropy_maximum (missjmelville)



Series: Salvation Verse [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Permanent Injury, Season/Series 05, Wing Kink, Wingfic, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-08
Updated: 2015-05-24
Packaged: 2017-12-18 03:09:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/874950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missjmelville/pseuds/entropy_maximum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some days, in the early morning when the sun is just rising, Dean thinks he can see Castiel's wings, or at least their shadows.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> I started this in 2009 and while I know that four years is a long time, I am hoping that I will regain the momentum to continue this or at least give it a decent ending. Having said that, I hope that it is enjoyable even unfinished as it is.

Some days, in the early morning when the sun is just rising, Dean thinks he can see Castiel's wings, or at least their shadows. It might be the angle of the sun at that particular moment or the colour of the sunset on the horizon but either way it's as if the light can't push through some invisible weight and instead it goes around, leaving shadows on the ground or up a wall.  
  
Sometimes when Dean sees them, they are unfurled - ready for flight and huge, spreading along the motel wall and looking as if even that can't contain them. Other times, they are pulled in close to Castiel's body, making his shadow look larger and slightly hunched. Something Dean finds immensely funny for just a few seconds, before he realises what he's seeing and blinks in awe.  
  
Occasionally, when he has a rare moment of quiet, Dean wonders why it is _now_ that he is starting to glimpse the angel's wings, and occasionally, if he is feeling particularly sentimental, likes to think that it's maybe because he trusts him now. Because he has faith in him, even if it is only a small amount, it's more than nothing, it's more than enough.   
  
He doesn't think Castiel knows, he never says anything, never seems to notice the few times when Dean's eyes wander past him and stare transfixed for just a moment. They're never there for long, a blink-and-you'll-miss-it type of thing, and only on days when Dean has made progress on finding the devil. Only on days, mornings, when he wakes up and sees Sammy asleep peacefully, before Sam left anyway. Only on days when Dean is happy, or as close to happy as he gets these days.  
  
It's the beginning of the end of the world and weirdly, He has hope. The Devil is hunting them, wants him dead, and Cas is on a mission to find God, visiting sporadically. Sam is off on his own and Bobby's acting depressed, and who can blame him? But even in the middle of so much shit and terror, Dean has hope. Seeing Castiel's wings, even just their shadows, gives him hope and he thinks that should be weird but it just feels right.  
  
Dean has thought about talking to Castiel about it, about _them_ , but then he realises he really doesn't want to, doesn't want to take the risk of possibly offending Cas or saying the wrong thing. Something that would inevitably end in Castiel leaving and Dean never seeing him, or his wings, ever again. He can't take that risk. He won't. He can't lose the little hope that burns dully inside, like a spark just waiting for the wind to help it catch aflame.  
  
So when Castiel comes back from a battle against Lucifer's minions, hunched over and grimacing in pain, no visible wounds to be seen... Dean knows it has something to do with _them_ , with his wings. The angel is shaking and panting and his eyes are glassy and Dean knows it's bad, has seen these symptoms before and usually with an unpleasant outcome, he only hopes Castiel is stronger than that.  
  
Castiel sways slightly and Dean is at his side in a second, propping him up and steering him over towards the bed. Castiel is grey, his face pale - drained of any colour, and he moans in pain when Dean tries to position him on his back. Stupid, Dean thinks, if it's his wings of course it's going to hurt. So quickly he turns Cas, rolls him over onto his stomach and hopes there's something he can do, something he can help with.  
  
"Cas," He says, words rough and worried, "Cas, can you hear me man? What can I do?" His voice cracks on the last word, he hasn't slept in days and he's tired and grimy and this is just too much. Sam hasn't returned his calls, Bobby refuses to leave his house, and now Cas is injured, it's too fast and Dean knows it's the Apocalypse and all, but he just wishes it would slow down. He's only one man and there's only so much he can take before he cracks.  
  
"Hurts," Comes the muffled reply from Castiel, face down on the bed, shaking violently and Dean doesn't know what he can do. Knows he wants to help but right now he just feels useless. Instead he tries to make Cas as comfortable as possible, turning his face to the side so he doesn't suffocate himself, propping him on his side slightly, getting a damp cloth to wipe Cas's brow... because now that Dean focuses he can feel that Cas is burning up.  
  
"Hang in there buddy, you'll be fine," Dean is reassuring himself as much as Cas right now, his hands shaking with exhaustion and something he refuses to acknowledge just yet, as he rinses the cloth in ice cool water. Hopes to soothe at least something of Cas's pain. He knows parting with Sam was the right thing to do, but right now he can't help but wish his brother was here with him, helping him. Sam was always better dealing with injuries.  
  
He checks his phone then, no new messages, no missed calls, nothing. It's been a week and he hasn't heard a thing from Sam. Bobby said he probably just wanted some time alone, and Dean agrees but he can't help feeling worried, can't help wondering. The Devil is loose and the whole world is going to hell, literally. Just the other day it rained blood for six hours straight, puddles of red forming in the dips on the road splashing up the side of the Impala as he drove. That wasn't even the worst of it.  
  
Cas shifts slightly on the bed, moaning pitifully as the movement causes him more pain, his eyes are closed and he's still panting and sweating and Dean wishes there was someone here who knew what to do. He rests his hand gently against Cas's side, stilling any more movement from the angel.  
  
"Don't move Cas, you'll just make it worse," His thumb is stroking the line of a rib lightly, he doesn't even realise he's doing it. "If it's your wings, cos that's the only thing I can think of at the moment, then there's nothing I can really do Cas, tell me what to do," He pleads, leaning closer in case Castiel can't hear him. But he gets no response.  
  
It takes two days before Cas's fever breaks and his skin gets back some of it's colour, Dean still hasn't slept, hasn't left Castiel's side for more than the time it takes to go to the toilet or grab a glass of water, maybe an apple. He should really go out and get a some food, maybe take a shower too but he can't bring himself to leave, can't bring himself to even move out of sight of Cas. Because he thinks, if he blinks, Cas might disappear and he doesn't know what he'd do if that happened. 


	2. Chapter Two

Castiel is getting better, slowly, but he hasn't woken and that makes Dean worry. The shakes have stopped and he thinks Cas could wake up any time now... he hopes anyway. But then, the nightmares start, and Dean wouldn't be able to sleep even if he wanted to. The angel screams so loud that the windows shatter, and Dean just holds Cas's hand and mutters soothing words, doesn't even flinch when the screams get louder and his ears bleed. And then everything is quiet.  
  
  
Castiel's mouth is open still and Dean feels the vibrations, and the wet slickness running down his neck soaking his shirt collar. The silence is almost worse than the horrific screams were because he can still see Cas screaming, even though he can't hear through his busted up ears, and he's scared Cas will stop and he won't notice, he's scared Cas will die if he so much as blinks. He still mutters words of comfort to Cas, even though he can't hear himself, it's the least he can do.  
  
  
In the morning, when the sun is rising and everything is still quiet, so very quiet, Castiel awakens. The bed moves slightly under his head where he is resting, but he just lays there still holding Cas's hand, and imagines if he could hear at the moment that he would hear the rustle of fabric as Cas sits up in the bed looking curiously down at Dean.  
  
  
The hunter hastily lets go of Cas's hand and sits up in his chair, he's about to say something, anything when Castiel reaches out and places his hands either side of Dean's head, over his ears. And Dean can hear a weird sort of buzzing and his ears feel tingly and then he can hear Cas's voice, soft and raspy and full of guilt and apology.  
  
  
"I am sorry Dean, I did not mean to harm you, please forgive me," he looks down then, noticing that Dean has removed some of his clothes, his trenchcoat and suit jacket are hanging over the back of Dean's chair and Cas seems fascinated with his shirt and tie. He fiddles with the tie, picking it up between his fingers and turning the fabric over, examining it. Dean just blinks and realises Cas healed his ears, healed them like it was nothing, and, he thinks, in the grand scheme of things it really is, nothing.  
  
  
Castiel looks up then, curious, guilty, sad and then pushes the covers out of the way and goes to stand up. He wobbles slightly on his legs and Dean is standing next to him in an instant, hand on his arm, holding him up. Then Cas is pulling on his suit jacket and his trenchcoat and with a small smile he's gone.  
  
  
"Yeah no problem, glad you're better, see you later," Dean mutters mulishly to himself before deciding a shower would be a good thing and that clean clothes are a must. He smells like, well he just plain smells and there's still blood on his skin and sweat on his clothes and he's kinda glad Cas left because really, he's not in any shape to be having visitors.  
  
  
He undresses quickly, dumping his disgusting clothes in a pile wondering if they even deserve a wash or if he should just burn them. The shower is blessedly hot and easily washes away the layers of grime, and he scrubs his skin raw until it's pink and shiny and maybe hurts just a little too much. But it's good. He's clean and he can hear again and Cas is fine. Cas is fine.  
  
  
His stomach grumbles as he gets out of the shower, he thinks about eating, he honestly does, but he's way too damn tired to do anything about it and so he just drops down onto his bed. Onto his bed where Cas had spent the last four days sleeping. It smells like him with just a hint of sweat and something else that he thinks might be feathers. It tickles his nose and makes him want to sneeze. But it's comforting.  
  
  
So he turns his head into the pillow, breathing deep and then he's drifting off, asleep before he even thinks to pull the covers up. It's a good thing Sam isn't here or he'd get an eyeful as soon as he walked in the door cause Dean is lying on top of the covers, naked and wet and utterly dead to the world; he sleeps better than he has in months.  
  
  
When Dean wakes up it's dark. The hunter's disoriented for a moment, doesn't remember where he is and then shivers. It's cold and apparently he's still not wearing any clothes. He stands up on shaky legs and pulls on the cleanest pair of jeans he has, before grabbing a shirt and some coins and going to the vending machine outside. He's hungry but what he really needs right now, is sugar. He can't remember the last time he ate an actual meal and so he thinks sugar first, then real food.  
  
  
He sits on his bed cross-legged and comfortable, munching away on his third chocolate bar with enthusiasm, a cool glass of water on the bedside cabinet. He eats, drinks and eventually drifts off again , body apparently exhausted and trying to make up for lost sleep. He doesn't have anything better to do at the moment anyway so he just lets it happen. Falls asleep with his face mashed into the pillow, breathing in the scent of Castiel.  
  
  
Castiel watches from the shadows, guilty and confused, he remembers being hurt, he remembers coming back to Dean, and then he remembers not much at all. Agony and darkness, a soothing voice and cool hands, it doesn't make sense. He unfurls his wings, invisible still, and hisses a little when the sore muscles stretch and pull, the pain should be gone by now, he knows this as sure as he knows his own name and yet it hasn't.  
  
  
He thinks it never will and that scares him more than he cares to admit. Dean can never know. Can never know that when Castiel flies the pain is almost unbearable, that even still, his wings throb in time with his vessel's heartbeat. Lucifer was an angel, still is, sort of, and he knows how to injure other angels. He must've passed this information to his demon minions for Castiel can think of no other explanation. Nothing else can explain why his wings have suddenly changed from pearl white to ink black. It's a curse and nothing more. There is no cure. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two weeks and a dozen motels later Dean sees Castiel again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! So I bet you weren't thinking this would ever get updated right? Surprise! However this is completely un-beta'd and was written disjointedly over like a year? So I don't know if it even makes sense or is any good whatsoever but inspiration finally struck to finish this chapter so here it is.
> 
> Having said that, don't expect any updates in the near future? I'm sorry. This will be extremely slow and may never get finished but thank you for sticking with me otherwise.

Dean had been reluctant to move on, he knew that Cas could find him wherever he went but the pillow on his bed still smelled like Castiel and there was a buzzing sort of energy that surrounded the motel room he was staying in, as if Castiel had left part of himself, part of his grace, behind while he healed and slept in Dean's bed. In the end it was a call from Bobby that prompted him to leave, a hunter Bobby was in contact with claimed to have seen Lucifer and though it was probably a bogus lead, it was better than nothing.

It'd been three days since Cas had left and he hadn't heard a peep from the angel, or Sam, but Cas was who he was more worried about. He packed his meagre belongings into his duffle bag and tucked it away in the boot of the Impala after a quick weapons check, everything was where it should be. He made one last sweep of the room to make sure he hadn't left anything behind when something caught his eye, a slightly darker looking shadow between the bed and the bedside cabinet, he leant down to get a closer look. It wasn't a shadow. It was a feather, darker than ink and glossy like a raven's, bent slightly near the base as if it had been pushed the wrong way before it had fallen out. It had to be Castiel's. 

He held the feather reverently in his hand and thought maybe that his skin tingled a little where the feather made contact. It felt lighter than it's size would suggest, it was at least as long as Dean's favourite knife and he wondered if it could be just as sharp. He brushed the edge with the tips of his fingers, curious, but it just felt like brushing against a soft air current. He smoothed out the bent shaft and breathed out shakily when it didn't break but seemed to accept it's old shape again with no sign that it had been damaged.

Everything was already packed and he didn't want to risk the feather getting broken again by putting it into his duffle bag so he placed it carefully into the glovebox compartment of the Impala on top of some papers, a spare gun and a couple old phones. It seemed somewhat blasphemous to keep an Angel's feather in his glovebox but he had nowhere else where he could keep it without the possibility that it might break or bend.

When he finally left the motel it was with a small smile on his face that he couldn't seem to get rid of no matter how much he tried. Cas would be back, he would find Dean and until then, Dean had a little piece of Cas to keep with him. While the fact that Cas had lost a feather seemed ominous, Dean couldn't help but feel as if it were good luck for him. 

Two weeks and a dozen motels later Dean sees Castiel again. He hasn't made any progress in finding Lucifer or Sam but with Bobby's help, he has killed a lot of Demons. He is stumbling back into his room, covered in blood and mud and sweat, exhausted and mildly injured and he just wants to sleep but a shower would be best and he almost trips himself over coming through the doorway but he doesn't. He doesn't trip because Castiel is there to catch him, a steadying hand on his elbow.

"Cas," Dean manages to slur out the name in something resembling surprise but also relief. He's so god damn relieved. He'd half convinced himself Cas had gone and died and he'd never know because who would there be to tell him? He gladly accepts Cas' help walking across the room but as much as he wants to, he doesn't stumble and collapse onto the bed but steers them wobbly towards the bathroom. 

Castiel hovers outside the bathroom door while Dean showers, prepared to rush in and hold Dean up if he needs to, prepared to save Dean from cracking his skull open on the tiled floor if he falls asleep in the shower or trips over his exhausted limbs. Thankfully none of that is necessary. Dean stumbles back out of the bathroom in nothing but a towel ten minutes later, as clean as he possibly can be when he has a gash along the curve of his bottom right rib that definitely needs stitches.

It's bleeding slugishly, having stopped at some point but reopened during his shower, the blood runs down his side to soak into the towel at his waist staining it bright red. Castiel watches with worried eyes as Dean starts the tedious and painful process of stitching himself up. It's quiet as Dean works and Castiel wonders why Dean didn't just ask him to heal it, he could but it feels like this is something Dean needs to do. 

When he's done, Dean lies back on his bed, closes his eyes and is gone. Or so Cas thinks until he hears the softly mumbled words, "Glad you're still alive," Dean peeks an eye open to look at Cas but otherwise doesn't move, "Thanks," he adds belatedly and watches Cas long enough to see him nod his acknowledgement and then he's fast asleep, snoring softly into his pillow.

Castiel decides to keep watch, like Dean did for him two weeks previous. His back aches as he settles into a chair by Dean's bed, he feels his wings shudder slightly, the ache spreads out seemingly into every individual feather and turns abruptly into a sharp stinging pain that it takes all his concentration not to scream out and wake Dean up. After a moment it subsides. It's not a new experience unfortunately. He's spent most of the last couple weeks looking for something, anything that might cure him or at least alleviate some of his pain but so far it's been a futile search. As futile as his search for God has been.

He sits there watching over Dean, assuring his sleep is deep and peaceful, all night and though the pain keeps flowing through him every few hours, he doesn't make a sound. The night passes and slowly the sun creeps up on the horizon, shining golden through the flimsy curtained window, he watches as his wings shadow stretch along the wall behind Dean, seeming to curve out around him, they don't look any different like that, their shadows haven't changed but as he watches he can feel another ripple of pain building. 

When the pain spikes he watches, fascinated, as the shadow wings seem to shiver and shake violently along the wall and then it stops and he's gasping softly and consciously tucking them away where the pain is less intense but seems to come more often. He doesn't notice Dean's wide eyed stare facing the wall where his wings shadow had just been. He closes his eyes and after a few minutes, Dean falls back into slumber too.


End file.
